The First Snow reposted
by oana07
Summary: He took another step and placed his hand on my shoulder, feather-like touch, but sending electricity spiraling down to the tips of my fingers...fingers that for too long itched to touch his face, his hands, his hair...
1. Chapter 1

First Snow

I walk outside and light a cigarette. Every one I smoke is dedicated to him. Everything is still, unmoving, like I landed straight into a ghost town. I focus on the smell of snow in the air, the promise of those dancing flakes that makes my heart feel like it's about to burst out of my ribcage. Then I look up. There they are, those wonderful clouds. Just a little more time. I pull out another cigarette and light it feebly.

I don't know exactly when I started smoking-after Philadelphia, I guess. That last fateful encounter that left us both broken again. It feels good, fitting into the pattern I've been creating for two years now. After Philadelphia I took up smoking, quite a hypocritical act on my part since I always criticized him about that, always telling him that those things would kill him. But it made me feel so close to him... only Mom knew about it, and very unlike Lorelai, she never asked me why. She just started to fill the house with every crazy looking ashtray she could find.

I took another long drag as I remembered the first year I stood in the falling snow smoking.

O * o * o * o * o * O

Christmas night in Stars Hollow. I was on a brief vacation from the campaign because Obama himself took two weeks off. As usual, all the residents were asleep, so nobody saw me as I made my way to the bridge, our bridge, and took a seat on the edge. The first cigarette was finished in a couple of minutes, but my memories were still running like crazy in my mind, never stopping, not even for a heartbeat so I could catch my breath. I refused to cry as I lit another one and took a long drag.

I was getting so good at this-at hiding my feelings behind a brick wall. Working certainly helped, though following our now president around in a bus, sleeping in crappy hotel rooms, and eating on the run was not ideal. But I never had time to think. After the day was closed, the day's article checked and rechecked and finally sent, I would be so tired I usually didn't know how to find the bed fast enough, and fell asleep as soon as my head would hit the pillow. But even in my sleep, I could not escape. Dreams of all kinds, shapes and sizes would invade my mind, and even if sometimes the dream would be happy, I would still wake up in tears.

O * o * o * o * o * O

First snow always finds me outside smoking, waiting for it, like I would wait a lover to come and ease the knots in my stomach...

The very first flake to hit me lands on my eyelash, as I look up expectantly. I smile.

All's right in the world again.

Later, almost frozen to death, I started to make my way back to my small, cramped apartment where I currently resided, in New York. I never even hoped for a good job at first, after the campaign trail, but I applied anyway at a lot of newspapers, and I was shocked out of my shoes when the editor-in-chief at The Times called. I now had a small column reviewing anything and everything-art, books, movies, plays, concerts-you name it, I wrote about it. And still, the one thing missing in my life was him. I couldn't even think his name. It burned my heart in such a way that I would feel it was being wrenched out again and stomped all over, stabbed, and lit on fire at the same time.

I never dared to call him even though I had his number. I never dared to e-mail him even though I had the e-mail address. I never dared to write a letter even though I perfectly knew the address of Truncheon Books. What I did instead was read. Memorize his book. And then the next one, and the next. Three books I knew by heart, and still was the Cowardly Lion that never met the Wizard. Every day would be the same 'Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will call him-I promise.'

Two years filled with tomorrows and I was still here, living in a crappy apartment filled with books movies and take-out menus, and a dog - my faithful Paul Anka Junior, in the words of the reigning Lorelai, produced and raised on the streets of New York, only to be found by yours truly in a shelter, scheduled for euthanasia in a week. I fell in love then and there. He was a weird combination between a Golden Retriever and a Chow-chow. But he was my only companion aside from Mom. She was happily married to Luke, finally, and I was honestly happy for her.

I sighed and pulled out another cigarette as I sat down on my beaten up couch and reached for the tattered old copy of the book titled The Subsect. After the first twenty pages I was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The bittersweet remembrance of everything flashed trough my mind and heart - every kiss every touch, even every fight, tainted by the simple innocence of youth - all of it, there, etched in my mind as we stood there watching each other. Neither spoke. Neither had the guts for even a simple "hello." We watched each other and every image that passed trough us, like a ghost of wind barely felt, in the middle of a too hot day of summer. And then the trance was broken by a dusty 'ding' caused by an innocent customer entering Truncheon.

"Why had I gone there?" I asked myself. "Why now? After all this time? Why did I get up, get in my car and instead of driving to work, take a detour all the way to Philadelphia? And most of all, why am I just standing here like a moron, staring at him?"

"Why now? Why now? Why now?" I kept thinking and thinking, never seeming to let go of the futile question - the question that plagued my mind and what pieces of my heart he left me with since I took that one wrong turn. I hadn't even realized I was actually voicing my all-too-jumbled thoughts until he stepped forward and answered it.

"Maybe now it's just the right time."

And there, just like that, he did it again. We were again 16, and he could read my mind just like he would read that stupid Hemingway.

I was stunned. Beyond speech, beyond thought, beyond breathing.

He took another step and placed his hand on my shoulder, feather-like touch, but sending electricity spiraling down to the tips of my fingers...fingers that for too long itched to touch his face, his hands, his hair...

"Breathe," he told me. "You're turning 6 shades of purple," he laughed, obviously trying to alleviate the heady tension that filled the room. "Coffee?" he asked innocently.

I threw him a pointed look, one that said something along the lines of, "You've known me for all this time, better than anyone, and you still have to ask?" He got the point and motioned me to follow him upstairs.

Silence once again enveloped us while he brewed the coffee and I walked around the small living room, finding what seemed to be a corner for each of the three friends, finally stopping at one desk filled with various books, crumpled sheets of paper and newspaper clippings. At a closer inspection I gasped aloud, the sound echoing and reverberating through the empty room. All the clippings were my articles, including the ones I wrote for online magazines. He was by my side in a second, furiously gathering all the pieces into a drawer. Just as I was about to speak, the door opened and a blonde with a petite figure, the face of an angel, and the body of a top model entered and greeted Jess with a phrase so mundane and so hypocritically overused that I almost laughed: "Honey, I'm home "

That is when I turned and ran, as fast as I could, never even noticing that it was pouring buckets outside. Everything in my mind was screaming RUN, while my heart was yelling at me to stop and face him and my feelings. In the confusion, I left my purse on his sofa, ironically containing my keys, like fate was mocking me, forcing me to turn right around and go back. But, ignoring the fact that it was raining, and that I had no way to start the car, I thanked all the gods that the human mind had ever invented for leaving my car door open, climbed in, and with shaking fingers, lit a cigarette.

Suddenly, the passenger door opened and a very wet Jess joined me. "Since when do you smoke?" The question fell from his lips almost on its own.

"Do not ask us why it is we do what we do, for the answer is not something for us to say and for "you to hear. For, in the mist of our corrupted souls, we have accepted that it is who we are," I quoted his latest book almost without thinking, like I would do in any normal conversation lately.

"Her name is Anna," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Okay," I replied, my heart feeling like it was being pierced by ten thousand knives all at once.

"Her and Matt's wedding is in two months," he whispered. I felt hope swelling in my heart, and I quenched the feeling just as soon as it started to blossom.

"You read my last book," he says.

"You've been following my work," I reply.

Silence. I light another cigarette and pass it to him, then light one for me. For a while there is only the sound of the smoke swirling and twirling around us, enveloping us in a warm, familiar cloud, jumbling our thoughts and making us dizzy.

"What now?" I ask.

"We move on," he says.

"Just like that?" The thought of never seeing him again hurts so much. Like I never saw him at Luke and Lorelai's wedding, because he was on his book tour with "THE LOST ONES." Even now I can remember not even being able to eat because of the knots in my stomach while waiting to see him, only to find out he came and congratulated the happy couple a couple of days after they were back from the honeymoon.

"Or…." He trails off.

"OR?" I ask.

"Tomorrow night. One last try. 8 o'clock. Take it or leave it," he said.

"I'll be here," I breathe, relieved. I finally open my eyes and notice that it stopped raining.

"I forgot my purse upstairs," I say.

"Do you still have time for that coffee, or should I go get it?" he asks.

"I should get back to work."

"Be back in five," he replies.

I step outside also, trying to relieve the tension in my muscles, and I think, bewildered, of how this day turned out.

..

As he came back with my purse, I looked into his eyes for the first time in a long time. That beautiful chocolaty brown drowning me with their warmth. As we stared into each other's eyes, he stepped closer. I matched him step for step, and when we finally met, he took my hands like that first attempted kiss in Luke's apartment above the diner, and so softly I first thought I missed it, he kissed me. "See you tomorrow night," he whispered, and then he was gone.

I drove in silence to my apartment instead of work, and called my friend and colleague Ella to excuse myself for the day, and for the next day. Then, I packed a bag and drove to Stars Hollow. I was in serious need of Lorelai.


	3. Chapter 3

_**As usual thanks to Iscah McKrae for everything she has done for me. I miss you, girl.  
><strong>_

I walk into the house, with an ominous yell bursting from my lips…

"Mom…. "

" Offspring…. " Came the startled reply from a wide-with-surprise-but-also-elation eyed Lorelai. " I did not know you were coming "

" Well I'm in desperate need of mommy talk " I reply deflating slightly.

" Aww couldn't stand being away from your mommy anymore and decided to move back home and live only to aid and nurture mommy in her old age ? "

" Yeah, because you're that old. And because it's my lifelong dream " I reply sarcastically, in a very Jess-like manner .

" Oh, I am offended, the child I held in my womb for nine months and spent all those hours giving birth to…the child I raised with all that I had… I only expected her to worship the very ground I walk on, and cater to every need and whim of mine….and now, she stabs me in the back…..I am crushed….ye, gods, how cruel have you been to me…." She rambled.

I just stared with an eyebrow raised.

" Okay, okay, I am back and in full mental capacity. " She blushed slightly.

" You sure? You still seem a little out of it over there. "

" Yes yes, no need to verbally attack your mommy, now, your flesh and blood, she who gave you your life, your reason for living… "

" Right, are you done now? "

" Yeah. Just couldn't help myself there. "she grins.

" So, hun, what is the matter "She asked seriously, all traces of mischief disappearing from her eyes.

At this point all I had to say was one word:

" Jess . "

" Oh, sweetie…. " She sighed.

" I went to see him " I add.

" And? "

" We…sort of talked…and… " I trail off.

" And? " She prompts patiently.

" Well…we have a date…tomorrow. " I state slowly.

She nods thoughtfully and then proceeds to the bag I had packed and pulls out a simple grayish-blue dress and holds it up triumphantly and proclaims:

" You should wear this. "

And that simple action did it, the tears in my eyes couldn't be contained any longer and spilled, the salty wetness making its way silently on my cheeks as it took its gravity dictated path. I understood the message she was trying to pass onto me, her silent approval and acceptance, but most of all her support and faith in my choice and my ability to see my decision trough astounded me so deeply, I forced myself to move my frozen to the spot legs to meet her in a lengthy hug.

And suddenly after the moment had passed and its symbolism deciphered, the walls finally came down and I let myself feel, for the first time in the longest time all that I had locked safely away. All the love and yearning, the need I felt for him, to the very core of my being, it took my breath away, at the same time as finally being able to breathe properly. 

About two hours later we step into Luke's only to find the one and only Taylor, again pestering the diner owner and we catch a little bit of the conversation.

"No way Taylor, I am not decorating my diner with flowers for your stupid tulip festival. What the hell is that anyways? If you're trying to go all Netherlandy on us I will consider planting and selling some marihuana, but until then get out!"

"Why Luke that is preposterous. I will never understand your attitude against our lovely town's festivals; you always refuse to participate…"  
>He was cut off<p>

"I refuse to participate because you are crazy Taylor."  
>Gasps all over the diner<p>

"Yeah, he is and you all know it, and you're all crazy too for allowing him. Get out Taylor."

"Why Luke I am outraged"

" I don't care. Out."

We laughed out loud at the exchange between the two and again when a very annoyed Luke came to get out order, and again as we left and noticed that Taylor had already started decorating the town square under the scrutiny of the whispering Patty and Babette, the image completed by Kirk running around like crazy trying to fulfill Taylor's orders, all the while looking as disoriented as ever. 

The rest of the night was spent with movies and all the junk food we could find, slightly choked (on mom's part) on nicotine, but wonderfully bathed in coffee.

And after mom was finally asleep, dragged upstairs by a grumpy and sleepy Luke who returned late from the diner's busy activity, I made my silent and stealthy way to the place of my comfort, privacy and remembrance, my beloved bridge. As I sat down on the still slightly wet boards (as this year's first snow hadn't lasted through the whims of the changeable weather, and melted away after a few hours, only to be replaced by water drops) I finally felt a strange sort of peace. The smell of wet boards, the leftovers of rain and snow melded together and created a particular smell, one could only smell rarely when such weather should occur that, filled my whole being to the brim.

The uncertainty I had lived with for the past years had taken a great toll on my ability to feel even the slightest tranquility, and now that peaceful feeling seemed so foreign and strange to me, that at first, I almost didn't recognize it. After remembering our conversation, though, I soared, I felt like screaming with joy and happiness. 

As I placed my bag in the back of my car, mom watched me carefully and then, just as quietly as the previous night she hugged me and whispered in my ear:

"So glad to have you back"

I just smiled brightly and the proud look in her eyes proved the fact that she finally had her daughter back.

As I climbed into the car, drove away and reached the town limits, one thought generated by the sense of freedom I had recently acquired, wouldn't leave my mind: "The door is open now, and a world full of possibilities is stretching in front of me." That lulling thought followed me all the way home and then, all the way back to Truncheon books, as I approached my future.

EPILOGUE

Later, at truncheon books…

I walk in and spot him, reading-not a surprise there, and walk up to him.

Eyes connect. Lips quiver and can't contain a smile.

"Hi" I whisper.

"Hi" He replies.

The rest is, as they say, history. 

_**AN: For me this story is finished. I always love to think up ways to get two characters together, but I never know what to do with them once I do. Maybe someday I will think up a sequel for this, but for now, as Porky says : " That's all, folks". **_


End file.
